One Word
by Domomomo
Summary: A single word is all it takes to create a story, to set a theme. Joyous, resentment, slippery. Any word can be used to describe one's relationship to another. Just a single word.


_Hey guysssss! So I made a few edits to this... and put it in the Spamano category pffff. Also, I'd love it if you'd leave a one word prompt in your review, since I plan to write more of these. It would make Domo a very happy human. So, without further ado, enjoy and review!_

* * *

_**Flowers – Russia**_

Ivan sighed heavily, staring into the monochromatic world of cold and death. How long would it be until he could see flowers outside again, before his beloved would return the sun to him? How long until the sun melted away the chill of loneliness he felt, finally letting his happiness bloom?

He wished he knew.

* * *

_**Afternoon – Spain/Romano**_

The midday sun shone brightly through the window, causing Lovino to grumble a few curses and pull his pillow over his head. Next to him, Antonio began stirring, the light seeming to interrupt his siesta as well.

"Loviii... close the curtains..."

"Do it yourself, moron."

* * *

_**Moe – Korea/China**_

"Y-Yong Soo, what is this... this _thing_, aru?"

"It's a dress, of course! Geez, Aniki can really be dumb."

"Why did you give it to _me_?"

"Because Aniki is so moe, and the dress is so moe, and everyone knows that Korea invented moe, daze!"

"That... makes no sense, aru..."

* * *

_**Pirate – Spain/Romano**_

Lovino gulped as the pirate's overly-warm hand gripped his chin, tilting his head up to lock eyes with the most piercing green.

"A stowaway, hmm? It's been a while~" The pirate's grin widened when he saw Lovino shiver (in fear or cold, he wasn't sure), the sight stirring a vast ocean of emotions within him.

Lovino, whose emotional state had been no better off, turned a light shade of red when the pirate beckoned him with a bronzed hand. "Well, it's a big ship, so I'm sure we can find something for you to do..."

* * *

_**Pasta – Germany/Italy**_

"Ludwig, Ludwig! Come here! I made this especially for you!"

Ludwig sighed as he looked away from the training field, having realized too long ago that Feliciano's attention could never be recovered when it began focusing on food. Defeat weighing heavily on his shoulders, Ludwig trekked towards his friend. "_Ja_? What is it?"

"Pasta!"

* * *

_**Hockey – America/Canada**_

As he watched his brother finally rest to catch his breath from hours of practice on the ice, Alfred decided that now he would make his presence known.

"Sup, Canadia?"

* * *

_**Regret – France**_

Tears blazed hot trails down his face as he looked at the burning figure of the daughter he wished he could still call his own.

"My darling... If only Papa had been strong enough to save you..."

* * *

_**Yaoi – Hungary**_

A wide smirk claimed Elizabeta's lips, her eyes following the bickering pair of Europeans that made their way into the small bakery.

_'Oh, they think they can hide from me, do they? They should know by now that wherever there is something mildly homosexual in the world, Elizabeta is there~'_

* * *

_**Anko – Norway/Denmark**_

Neils growled as he stood in his bedroom doorway, eyes fixed on his bed. He'd had a less-than-successful meeting with Alfred consisting of disgusting hamburgers, an easily distracted Alfred rattling off random and irrelevant events that had happened since they'd last spoken, a furious phone call from Berwald about Mathias having dug trenches around his house, and a delayed flight home on a commercial flight. Needless to say, Neils was exhausted and frustrated. He was in no mood to deal with Mathias, yet there he was, sleeping soundly in Neils' bed and drooling on his pillows.

Annoying Anko.

* * *

_**Mother – Hungary **_

There she stood, rocking the crying Feliciano back and forth, back and forth, whispering soothing songs of her childhood and doing her best to make him smile, despite her own breaking will.

Everything was falling apart around them, but she'd be damned if she didn't protect the ones she loved.

* * *

_**Slaughter – Russia/America**_

Everything around him was in ruins. He'd killed them all.

Katyusha was gone.

Natalia was gone.

Toris, Raivis, and Eduard had been taken care of.

And the one he loved dearest, his much-hated dream. Alfred. He was gone too.

Blood dripped from his pipe in the way only blood can: a thick, slow river dark as the night sky, droplets as heavy as rain on the battlefield.

Absently, Ivan went to his shed to find a shovel, intent on giving his departed friends a place to sleep. When he came back to himself, he looked at the work he had done. There were not seven graves, not six, not three, nor even two.

Just one.

The one he'd made for himself.

* * *

_**Queen – Prussia/Hungary**_

Elizabeta flushed in anger, hands shaking furiously as she read the 'poem' scrawled in his barely legible script.

_I'm the best in the sack, I'm a real sex fiend  
I'm the king of sex, wanna be my queen?_

* * *

_**Exterminate – Prussia/Hungary**_

Elizabeta offered her most menacing glare as she pressed the needle-like heel of her boot into Gilbert's stomach, his pathetic cries doing nothing but bringing more pain to his abdomen.

"You have thirty seconds to apologize and explain yourself, Gilbert, before I beat you into the next century."

* * *

_**Euphoria – Russia/Latvia**_

Frightened as he was, Raivis had come to realize that less and less were his shivers caused by fear of Ivan, but of joy to be around him. He had trouble understanding this, as Ivan had been the cause of innumerable hardships in his life, but he would do anything to keep this warmth he felt from leaving.


End file.
